


Better than Medicine

by milkysweet



Series: Sickfic [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, emeto mention nothing graphic, general good feel i think, keith calls lance sweetheart a lot, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 12:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkysweet/pseuds/milkysweet
Summary: Keith gets home. He still worries about Lance.





	Better than Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> direct part 2 to the first fic in this series. decided to make it separate than a chapter 2 since hes a monster.

The whole ride home, Keith is anxious. He texted Lance when he woke up with no reply, but he figured he was just sleeping. The only problem is that when he got off the plane, at one in the afternoon, he still had no message back. Lance was supposed to pick him up from the airport, too, but since that can’t happen for obvious reasons, he calls an Uber. The driver keeps trying to make conversation even though Keith really feels like he should’ve given up by now. While it might a welcome distraction for some, small talk stresses Keith out. There’s really no point to it, chatting someone up that he’ll never see again. He obsessively checks his messages, convinced that he just didn’t get a notification from Lance since he had his phone in airplane mode for the flight. 

Once the car arrives in front of their apartment complex, he grabs his bags, murmurs a thanks to the driver, and books it to their door. Only once he’s there does his momentum slow, when he realizes that a) he doesn’t have his keys out yet and b) he needs to be quiet. He fumbles through his (fancy, black) shoulder bag until he locates aforementioned house key and sticks it in the lock. “Keith, cool it. Lance is fine,” he mumbles aloud to himself, hand on the doorknob. It’s not like him to stress over something like this but -- listen -- Lance _always_ texts back. With a deep breath, he pushes open the door. 

“Lance?” he calls softly, but he isn’t expecting a response. He can see from here that he isn’t on the couch or in the kitchen. Probably (hopefully) asleep in the bedroom. Keith sets down his suitcase and bag at the door, then bends down to take off his shoes. He’s oddly anxious to go check on Lance even though he hasn’t heard from him all day and so these couple seconds won’t make a difference. _But what if they do?_ says the little voice in the back of his mind that he’s been trying hard to ignore. 

Shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the back of the sofa, Keith starts to head towards the bedroom. Something stops him though. And something is the shards of glass at his feet. He dances over them as he hurries into the kitchen to find the source of the glass, heart rate increasing rapidly. Is Lance behind the island counter, motionless on the floor? Did he get up for -- Oh. No. There’s just a broken cup and what looks like water. Okay. So Lance dropped a cup. He huffs, feeling thoroughly foolish. 

Keith continues his journey towards the bedroom, stopping at the bathroom when the sour stench of sick hits him in the face. He swallows hard, breathing shallow as he pulls the collar of his sweater up over the lower half of his face before he steps inside. He wishes he could force himself not to react this way because he doesn’t want Lance to feel bad if he sees, but he also knows that it’s an evolutionary response. Luckily, there’s no Lance inside. Just an inside-out sweatshirt beside the toilet and a flurry of tissues. He collects up the tissues and throws them away, tosses the sweatshirt into the laundry, and washes his hands. Now that he’s really sure Lance is in the bedroom, he steps towards the door and cracks it open carefully. 

He sees dark brown hair and the outline of a body under their comforter. The outline shifts when he softly calls out to it. Groans. Coughs. 

Keith walks over to Lance, surveying the scene. The bed is a mess, sheets twisted and tissues littering them. Besides that, though, everything seems to be alright. Nothing in here is broken and Lance isn’t dead, even if he hasn’t appeared from the depths of their comforter yet. He taps the home button on Lance’s phone when he catches sight of it on the nightstand. A red, blinking battery symbol informs him that he needs to charge it. He sighs. Well, that explains that one. 

“Lance -- how are you feeling?” He doesn’t respond right away. Keith thinks back to the sick in the bathroom. That, plus the dead phone that tells him Lance hasn’t been out of bed all day, are worrying him. “Do you want me to take you to the doctor?” 

At that, Lance finally peeks his head out from underneath the covers. Opens his eyes. Shakes his head. Sniffles. It’s a process before he speaks. “No, I just feel super shitty today,” he croaks, glassy blue eyes finding Keith’s. He lets out a small, humorless laugh and attempts a smile, but his expression quickly crumples and he pulls the covers back up over his mouth so that he can cough into them.

Keith’s stomach drops. _Oh._ To someone who doesn’t know Lance as well, that might seem like a normal statement. Obviously he feels shitty today. He’s really sick. So it’s a good thing that Keith knows Lance better, knows him well enough to know that when he says it like that, all eye contact and mournful puppy dog eyes, that it’s something more. He might be physically feeling awful, but the big issue for Lance right now is his mental state. 

__“Hey.” Keith leans down, hand hovering over the covers where he knows Lance’s hand is. He’s finished coughing, and he stares up at Keith._ _

__“Can I touch you?” Lance nods, taking one hand off of the blanket to initiate the contact, taking Keith’s hand in his own. Keith squeezes it, and he squeezes back. Lance’s hand is too warm. His hands are always warm (something Keith loves because his own are like ice), but this is a damp heat. He brushes his lips over the back of it and sits down at the edge of the bed._ _

__“Do you want to talk about it?” he murmurs, free hand moving to brush Lance’s hair off his forehead, pressing his palm to it. Hot, as he suspected, but not alarmingly so. He’ll get the thermometer in a minute._ _

__Lance sighs softly, eyes flicking away from Keith’s gaze. “Not really. It’s not --” His voice breaks off, throat too dry. No wonder he tried to get himself a glass of water. One glance to the nightstand lets Keith know that the half-empty glass from last night is now a fully empty one. He adds that to his list of things to do once he gets up._ _

__After his coughing fit ends, Lance continues where he left off, seemingly too exhausted to have the energy to be exasperated. “It’s not anything new.” He sniffles, running the edge of the comforter under his nose. Keith reaches over to the nightstand and silently hands him a tissue. Lance props himself up in a sitting position against his pillows before he takes it._ _

__“That doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it.” Nothing new could mean a variety of things. Maybe he’s missing his family back in Cuba, maybe he’s feeling like he’s not good enough, maybe he’s worrying about coming out to his grandma. As someone who has quite the tragic backstory, Keith is no stranger to days like these. Bad Days. Lance knows that well and he’s always there for him. Keith just wants to be there for Lance, too, and usually that means listening to him._ _

__Lance shakes his head, though. “Maybe later. My throat hurts real bad.”_ _

__“Alright.” Keith leans forward to press his lips briefly to his forehead. “I love you. I’m sorry I wasn’t good to you when I was gone. I’m gonna go get you some medicine and stuff and then I’ll come right back, okay? Just text --” Actually, wait, Lance’s phone died, scratch that. “--just throw something heavy against the wall if you need me.” It’s not the best idea, maybe, but it’s an effective one._ _

__Lance laughs breathily at that, smiling the first genuine smile Keith has seen on his face today. “Okay, mullet.”_ _

__Keith grins back. He can’t help it. It’s been awhile since he’s heard that one. “Not a mullet,” he replies, as is tradition, then squeezes Lance’s hand one more time before he leaves the room._ _

__Keith stops at the hall closet to grab their vacuum and then moves into the kitchen. Part of him wants to take care of Lance now and leave the broken glass for later, but the rest of him knows that is a dangerous idea. Literally. So he cleans up the glass as best as he can and then goes to get another one out of the cabinet. As he’s taking one down, he catches sight of their mugs. Huh. Actually -- tea is better. He should’ve thought of that earlier._ _

Chamomile is the only tea they have that isn’t caffeinated, so Keith pops that into a mug of microwaved water and carries it with him to the bathroom. He’ll let it steep while he gathers stuff in here. Easier said than done. First off, he has _no_ idea where their thermometer is. He thought it would be in the cabinet next to their Advil, but he thought wrong. He digs through three drawers before he remembers that it’s in the kitchen drawer with the cough drops because Lance took his temperature there a while back. (For the record, he was right, he didn’t have a fever. He was just really tired. And possibly shouldn't have been wearing leather gloves in the middle of summer.) 

__Keith heads back into the kitchen, taking the tea with him so that he can stick the bag into the compost bin on the counter. He grabs the thermometer, rinses it off, and then, as an afterthought, sticks their bag of cough drops into the back of his jeans. Okay. Back to the bathroom. He sighs, feeling like he’s going about this all the wrong way. Lance always does it right. Makes the perfect tea, knows when Keith needs space (usually), takes care of chores for him in a timely manner. And here Keith is, stumbling back and forth in their apartment just trying to do the bare minimum._ _

__He tries to do the rest quickly, shaking an Advil and decongestant into his hand that isn’t holding the cup and thermometer, tucking the bathroom tissue box under his arm, pushing the door to their bedroom open. He’s halfway to the bed when he hears snoring and startles, switching to soft steps instead of the speed-walk he was doing before. Carefully, quietly, Keith sets everything down on the nightstand, then moves across the room to plug in Lance’s phone. Once he returns to the edge of the bed, he’s able to get a really good look at him._ _

__Cheeks flushed pink under his tan skin, chapped, full lips parted, damp bangs falling over his forehead -- Lance is breathtaking even like this. Keith could never tell him that. He’d let it get to his head. So he’ll think it to himself, watching him as he sleeps in a way that might be creepy if they weren’t so in love. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, just drinking in the sight of him. His husband-to-be._ _

__“I missed you, sweetheart,” Keith whispers, leaning down to adjust the comforter over him. He’s not one for pet names (honey is the one he uses, and only when he really feels like he needs to), but, like this, a secret just for himself, it’s okay._ _

Lance stirs, a smile ghosting his lips. It’s then that Keith realizes he hasn’t heard his snoring for a while. _Fuck._ He’s busted for being a complete sap. “Whaddya call me?” he asks, voice weak and raspy in the back of his throat. 

__“Nothing.” They both know he’s lying._ _

__“Nuh-uh.” Deep blue eyes meet brown. The smile is a full-on grin. Keith feels heat in his cheeks. He really shouldn’t be blushing over calling his fiancé a cutesy name, but he’s Keith, so he is, anyways. “You said swe’heart.”_ _

__“Yeah?” Keith is pleased to see Lance is a better mood than he was before, even if it’s at his expense. “And so what if I did?” he challenges, fighting a smile and crossing his arms over his chest._ _

__Lance, still grinning, drags the back of his hand underneath his nose. “ ‘s nice. You never--” he coughs, catches sight of the mug on the nightstand, sits up and gropes for it. Once he’s taken a few sips, he’s back in full swing. “You never say stuff like that.” He pauses, staring down at the mug in his hands. Keith hopes it’s still somewhat warm._ _

__“Thanks for the tea. I must’ve been asleep for awhile, huh?” That confirms his worries about the heat of the tea._ _

__“It’s…” Keith shifts his feet. “Is it okay? I can reheat it.”_ _

__“Nah.” Lance smiles. “It’s great.” He takes another sip and seems to change his mind. “Actually, yeah. Would you, babe? But no rush.” He sniffles, trading out the mug for a handful of tissues._ _

__“Oh, uh, take these.” Keith picks up the pills from the nightstand and holds them out to him. “Please.”_ _

__“Mmm.” Lance replies from behind his tissues, tossing them in the general vicinity of the trashcan before taking the pills. He doesn’t complain as he swallows them, but Keith sees him wince. Only then does he remember that, oh, yeah, honey in tea is a thing. He’ll add that when he reheats the rest. Or, at this rate, makes him a new cup. He hates that he’s an actual doctor-in-training and yet he’s so inept when it comes to taking care of his boyfriend._ _

__“Put this in,” Keith tells him right after, turning on the thermometer and poking it against his lower lip._ _

__“So demanding,” Lance teases, and maybe looks a little irritated, but he holds the thermometer under his tongue regardless. Keith busies himself with collecting up his tissues while they wait. This process is halted when Lance sneezes and takes the thermometer out to blow his nose, and then they have to do the whole thing over again._ _

__The results aren’t bad. “Says 100.7.” Lance tosses the thermometer on to the nightstand, flopping back against his pillows. Keith settles down next to him, slipping an arm around his back._ _

__“That’s decent.” Keith is certain it’s down from earlier. Lance seems way more coherent than he did when Keith got home. And a lot less… sad. That doesn’t mean he’s feeling 100% better mentally, but he’d still call this banter an improvement. “Still, you’re on bedrest today.”_ _

__“Yeah.” Lance nods. “Believe me, I’m fine with that.” His tone is downcast. With no other warning, a dark cloud comes over his face and Keith feels his stomach twist. He knew that this wasn’t far away. He feels like he jinxed it just by thinking about it. Lance sniffles, then grinds the heel of his palm underneath his left eye and sighs. His posture slumps and he leans his head against Keith’s, warm weight against his side._ _

__“Hey, I’m here,” Keith murmurs, gently squeezing his waist. He doesn’t know what else to say. Since he doesn’t know the issue on Lance’s mind, he can’t help talk him through it. All he can do is be here for him._ _

__Lance doesn’t reply, so Keith moves his hand up from his side to his neck, pressing his thumb into the space above his shoulder blades and massaging in a slow circle._ _

__“Will you say it again?”_ _

__Keith blinks, hand pausing on Lance’s back. “Huh?”_ _

__“Y’know.” Keith doesn’t. “What you said earlier.”_ _

__He racks his brain. He said a lot of stuff earlier. But obviously Lance is talking about a specific event, something he thinks he knows, and -- oh. Yeah, he does know._ _

__“Sweetheart?”_ _

__Lance hums in agreement._ _

__“Sweetheart.” It’s not a question this time. It’s a soft statement, full of intent. Keith is shy about saying something that sounds so cheesy, but it’s all worth it when he hears Lance’s response._ _

__“You were really worried about me, huh?” The tone is casual, teasing, but Keith knows there’s more to it than that, can hear it in the vulnerable edge to his voice. That one rhetorical question tells him everything. He knows what is getting to Lance today. Or, at least, the bulk of it. It’s the self-doubt creeping back in. It used to be bad for him, but he’s gotten a lot better over time, through lots of loving reminders and big hugs from Keith and his friends._ _

__“Of course I was.” Keith has to be firm here. Solid. Give Lance no reason to think Keith would ever be anything else -- because he wouldn’t. “You’re very important to me, Lance.” He squeezes his shoulder in lieu of a hug, turns his head so that he can kiss him on the cheek. “I don’t like to see you hurting.”_ _

__Lance sighs softly, turning to look at him fully. His eyes still carry some sadness, but his expression is open, sincere. “I love you. I’m so happy I get to marry you.” His voice cracks on the last word and Keith thinks he’s going to cry and -- oh no -- but then he starts coughing instead._ _

__Coughing a lot. He probably should’ve had a cough drop in while he was doing all that talking, but it’s too late now. One elbow pressed tightly to his face, he’s fumbling around with his other hand for the mug. Keith leans over quickly and hands it to him. Lance’s hands are shaking as he takes the mug, whole body angled away from Keith. He’s still coughing. A gag catches in his throat and he lets out a strangled gasp, hurrying to draw the liquid to his lips. White, hot fear spikes in Keith’s veins, but he doesn’t let it show. He can’t._ _

__“Hey,” Keith soothes, rubbing one hand over his back. It’s clear that Lance is panicking and he’s trying his best to calm him down. “You’re okay.”_ _

__“S-sorry--” Lance gasps for air, taking another gulp of tea. “I can’t stop.” He sniffles and it’s desperate. His fear is palpable._ _

__“Shhh. You’re okay.” Keith keeps rubbing his back, having to remind himself to stay calm, too. Lance might be coughing a lot but it’s dry, nothing like pneumonia sounds like. He’s just got a nasty cold._ _

__Lance is finally beginning to relax, body trembling under Keith’s hands, but no longer spasming with coughs._ _

__“See?” Keith murmurs against his ear. “You’re just fine, sweetheart.”_ _

__Keeping a hand on Lance’s back, he reaches into his back pocket and unwraps a cough drop for him, holding it out. “Here. You’re okay.” He regrets not having the Uber stop at the drugstore on the way home -- he could’ve bought some actual cough medicine and new tea -- but he was too worried about Lance to think that far ahead._ _

__Lance nods, cough drop clacking against his teeth as he leans back against Keith’s side and closes his eyes. He takes a deep, shuddering breath in through his mouth and then lets it out slow. Mentholated lemon floods Keith’s sinuses. He presses a kiss to Lance’s cheek, giving him a second to relax before he asks anything else of him._ _

__Once he’s had a minute, Keith speaks. “Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll come back and check on you. Sweetheart.” It still doesn’t feel natural, but if it’s what Lance needs to feel better, he’ll say it a million times over._ _

__Lance makes an unhappy sound._ _

__“It’s a good time for you to sleep,” Keith continues, brow tightening. He’s not sure why Lance is protesting. “You just took some meds and your fever is going down, so I think you could probably sleep it off completely.”_ _

__Lance shakes his head slightly, lifting his head from Keith’s and finding his hand. “Stay here.” His voice is a whisper, anxious and worn out._ _

Oh. Well, he _could_ bring his laptop in here and work next to him. He tries to ignore the fuzzy, warm feeling in his stomach. Somehow, after all this time, Lance still makes him feel like a middle-schooler with a crush. 

“Let me get changed. And get you that tea refill.” Keith tucks a section of Lance’s hair behind his ear, leaning in to kiss him beside his nose, then in the hollow under his eye, then atop his cheekbone. He watches with pleasure as Lance’s lips quirk up. If he looks past the exhaustion, he can see some light is back in his eyes. _I love you. Even like this, I hope you know that could never love you less. Good, bad, and in-between, I want it all._ Keith isn’t good at saying these kind of things out loud, but he hopes his expression conveys enough. “And then I’ll come right back.” 

__Lance nods, shifting so that he’s lying down again. He’s still gazing up at Keith, though. When Keith gets up from the bed and is halfway out the door, he turns back and sees that Lance is still looking._ _

__“Right back,” he promises again, smiling at him. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”_ _

__Lance makes a sound in agreement and smiles back, smothering a yawn behind his hand. “I know.” Good._ _

One more thing. "Wait -- Lance? For the record," _Just for the record, not because I'm madly in love with you or anything like that._ "I love you, too. And I'm so happy I get to marry you." And -- what Lance said when he proposed, those words have been rattling around in Keith's brain for the past month and half. "There's no one I'd rather spend the rest of my life with." 

__This has Lance grinning. "Keith Kogane -- I didn't know you were such a sap."_ _

__"You can't tell anyone or my reputation will be ruined." Keith deadpans, hanging onto the doorknob._ _

__"Mmm. 's our secret." Lance pauses, searching Keith's face for... something. Whatever it is, he seems to find it because he grins, swiping a hand under his nose, looking thoroughly satisfied._ _

__"Now, go get me that tea."_ _

**Author's Note:**

> just started using these -- my twitter and tumblr are milkyxsweet


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